


Your heart is true (you're a pal and a confidant)

by tuesdaymidnight



Category: Marvel (Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Bad Jokes, Banter, Getting Together, Getting to Know Each Other, Humor, Ignores Infinity War and Endgame entirely, Insecurity, Lame Villains, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-13
Updated: 2019-08-13
Packaged: 2020-08-20 10:57:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,701
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20226727
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tuesdaymidnight/pseuds/tuesdaymidnight
Summary: The first time Peter met Deadpool, Deadpool fanboyed at him.Sure, he fanboyed harder at Thor, but Peter couldn’t be mad at that. It was really hard not to fanboy at Thor. He was a literal god. Peter had yet to have an interaction with Thor where he didn’t end up fumbling over his words and generally making a complete fool of himself. 95% of the time it ended in awkward finger guns.Extra humiliating because finger guns weren’t a gesture that even existed in Asgard.





	Your heart is true (you're a pal and a confidant)

**Author's Note:**

> This is a mix of various comics and the MCU and other movies. I’m reading Spider-Man/Deadpool right now, so some of those references have slipped in. But this is in part my palate-cleansing post-Endgame fic. 
> 
> I know movie studios think high school Peter will capture the fickle teen demographic, but it is my personal belief that snarky adult Peter > plucky teenager Peter. He’s a grown-up in this, so there’s no age disparity.

The first time Peter met Deadpool, Deadpool fanboyed at him. 

Sure, he fanboyed harder at Thor, but Peter couldn’t be mad at that. It was really hard not to fanboy at Thor. He was a literal god, like, people sacrificed goats to him or something. Peter had yet to have an interaction with Thor where he didn’t end up fumbling over his words and generally making a complete fool of himself.

95% of the time it ended in awkward finger guns. 

Extra humiliating because finger guns weren’t a gesture that even existed in Asgard. 

But Thor was always very nice about it.

The talking raccoon called Peter an idiot a lot, which Peter also couldn’t be mad about. Mostly because it was really hard to argue with a talking raccoon, especially one that never listened to anything anyone else had to say.

Before that first meeting, Peter hadn’t heard too much about Deadpool other than a brief chorus of groans in his ear piece from the other Avengers when he showed up. 

Okay, it was actually a lot more than groans.

Wolverine actually refused to stick around, but he was generally extremely rough around the edges and rarely joined the group anyway. But Steve needed Wolverine for mutant relations, because Steve and Cyclops didn’t get along at all for reasons that no one ever explained to Peter. And Beast hated Steve, also for reasons no one told Peter about, but he was pretty sure in that case it had something to do with politics. And Peter immediately tuned out any of Steve’s political rants, especially after the Winter Soldier gave Steve a t-shirt that said “Captain Anti-fa” on it, and Steve got in a whole lot of trouble for wearing it during a press conference and shouting at the reporters, “You should all be opposed to fascism. What the fuck is wrong with you?”

Tony and Beast got along great, but that was partly because Tony wasn’t director of S.H.I.E.L.D. anymore, which he loudly pointed out whenever (a) anything went wrong or (b) Steve asked him a question. 

Peter knew that Tony was actually very happy to not be in charge of anyone anymore, because it gave him more time to tinker in his lab, but he also knew that Tony had a mind like his--impossible to shut off--and that it was actually good when he had to slow down for meetings and to sign things. When Tony had time to himself, he and Doctor Strange ended up doing things like opening wormholes to other dimensions.

Peter had yet to see anything good come from opening a wormhole. 

But it turned out they really needed Deadpool at the time. Whatever they were fighting--what seemed to be mutant dinosaurs from Bolivia of all places--knew him and focused the attack on him, which let everyone else organize a counterattack from the rear that was almost too easy. 

In fact, they were able to kill or subdue the whole herd, or pack, or whatever a group of mutant dinosaurs was called, pretty quickly. 

“How did they fall for that?” Tony asked as he landed beside Peter, who was checking on Deadpool. 

There was a huge pool of blood under Deadpool’s body that Peter didn’t think was all dinosaur blood, and since Peter was the closest, he figured the right thing to do was to see if he was okay, and--shit--he had a freaking triceratops horn sticking out of his head. 

“The thing about dinosaurs is that they aren’t very smart,” Deadpool croaked.

Peter jumped back. 

“How are you still alive? And talking?”

Deadpool stared at him, at least that’s what it felt like. It was hard to tell under Deadpool’s mask.

“Oh my god, it’s Spider-Man. Has anyone ever told you your ass looks  _ great _ in Spandex?” 

Peter was glad for the mask covering his own face, because his jaw dropped and he was gaping like a fish underneath it. 

“Uh.”

“Did I say that out loud? Sometimes I don’t know if you can hear me or if only they can hear me.” 

He pointed in a direction toward nothing. 

“No, you definitely said it out loud.” 

“Well, cool, your ass. Ten out t--sweet Sophia, mother of Dorothy, can you hit me with your hammer, sir?” 

Thor, who was coming in to check on the last of the dinosaurs, stopped in his tracks and turned to look at Deadpool, who was trying to discreetly pull the horn out of his skull. 

“Ignore him,” Hawkeye said, jogging up. “If you pay attention to him he thinks it’s okay to show up at your house uninvited.” 

Deadpool signed something to him. Hawkeye looked like he was trying not to laugh. Peter looked back and forth between them, but neither man seemed interested in letting anyone else in on the joke. Tony and Thor both knew multiple languages, but apparently ASL wasn’t among them.

It was only after Thor and Hawkeye took off--probably back to SHIELD for the debriefing--that Deadpool turned back to Peter, who was definitely not jealous. Why would he be jealous? He didn’t know Deadpool. No one really seemed to like him. And Thor was objectively hotter than him in every way imaginable. 

“Do you want me to get the medics over here?”

They were mostly there for any civilian casualties and he wasn’t sure they were equipped to deal with impalement, but it seemed like a nice gesture.

“There’s nothing they can do that I can’t do with the healer of all wounds.”

“Time?”

“No, a family size bottle of Bactine.”

“I’m pretty sure you’re joking, but you just pulled a literal triceratops horn out of your skull.”

“If you insist on my good health, could you help me sit up so I don’t choke on my own blood? I’ve done it before and it’s not a great experience. It wasn’t my own blood, but still.” 

Deadpool made a gagging noise.

“The viscosity?” Peter blurted out.

“Bingo.” 

There was no reason for Spider-Man to linger. He needed to get to the debriefing, too, but he felt like an asshole just leaving the man there. 

Peter knew what it was like to not be liked by other people. To hide insecurity with jokes. 

“Are you waiting to arrest me?”

“Why would I arrest you?”

“For being too sexy in public?”

“No I just--”

“There you are Wade,” a booming voice came out from the rubble. 

Peter turned around to see what looked like a shiny metal giant in an X-men uniform heading toward them. That felt like a cue to leave. 

“I’ll um--see you later?” he said, as he shot out a web.

“Looking forward to it, sweet cheeks.”

=^..^=

The second time Peter saw Deadpool, Deadpool tried to kill him--well, he tried to kill Peter Parker, who he seemed not to know was one and the same as Spider-Man.

Secret identities were meant to actually be secret, and the number of people who knew his was already alarmingly high. So Peter had been trying really hard to stick to the rule, even among the other Avengers. 

But then Deadpool showed up at Parker Industries (a Stark Industries subsidiary). Well, it was less showing up and more hurtling through the window of Peter’s office with a gun pointed at him. 

“Listen Parker, you’ve done your last cyborg experiment without an IRB review.”

For a moment, Peter was too dumbfounded to be concerned about the gun in his face. 

“What are you even talking about?”

After the first encounter, Peter tried to do some research on Deadpool, but all he could find out was the basics. Deadpool’s name was actually Wade Wilson--thanks, Colossus--and he had a mutant healing power and was a mercenary of indiscriminate morals. Though, to be fair, Peter noticed a pattern of Deadpool’s targets being actual terrible humans, undead humans, and other monsters who probably deserved it, even if murder wasn’t Peter’s style. 

He even asked the other Avengers about him.

Steve hated Deadpool because he, in Steve’s words, “has no moral compass to speak of.”

Sam hated him because Steve hated him. 

Tony didn’t like him because Deadpool couldn’t be bought to his side exclusively. 

Hawkeye tolerated him because he got all of his obscure '90s references and both seemed to have a thing for Valerie Bertinelli.

Thor and Dr. Banner weren’t around when Peter went asking.

Dr. Strange didn’t have a whole lot to say about him, which was concerning given that he could see into the future and move shit with his mind.

The only people who seemed to kind of like him were Black Widow, who Peter would never ever call Natasha even though her identity was never secret, and the Winter Soldier, who Peter thought of as Bucky only when he was giving Steve a hard time--at all other times he was mildly terrifying. But they were both former assassins who had their moral compasses brainwashed out of them--again, Steve’s words--so Peter wasn’t sure they were the best judges of character. 

Though the fact that Peter Parker was Deadpool’s hired hit did seem to fall in the “no moral compass” category. 

“I think you’ve been misinformed?” Peter said tentatively.

“They showed me video!”

“Video can be very easy to doctor. I don’t make cyborgs! Or do human experimenting. You can go look around the labs.”

“Of course you’d keep up appearances here. You let the press in here. You wouldn’t want Gina from Channel 5 to be scandalized on the 11 o’clock news.”

“Wait. Why do you even care? You’re a mercenary.” 

“Because I want Captain America to like me, which if I think about too hard is probably because of daddy issues. And not in the fun sexy way--well, maybe also in the fun sexy way.”

“Well daddy won’t be too happy if you kill Peter Parker.”

“He will when I expose the operation you have going on.” 

Deadpool was advancing toward him with two guns drawn now, and Peter could admit that it was intimidating. Deadpool looked antsy, and Peter knew that type of antsy. He’d been on the other side of it himself. So in the heat of the moment, for some reason he thought the only course of action was to reveal his superhero identity to the man trying to kill him--by shooting webs at him to stick him to the wall. 

Let it never be said that Peter had the best ideas. 

“What the shit?” Deadpool said when he realized where the webs were coming from. 

And then Peter whacked him with the stapler on his desk that he never used--they were a paperless office--but had for show, and Deadpool blacked out long enough for Peter to disarm him.

When Deadpool came to, they had a shouty conversation about secret identities, the ethics of human testing, and whether or not Inspector Gadget counted as a cyborg. Peter managed to piece together that the guy who hired Deadpool to kill Peter Parker was working for Mysterio, and seriously fuck that guy.

So Peter couldn’t be mad that Deadpool had been manipulated into thinking that Peter Parker, Tony Stark protege, was actually a giant douche canoe. 

Truth be told, sometimes he kind of felt like a giant douche canoe when he went home and his apartment knew what temperature he wanted the thermostat set at by reading his heat signature.

=^..^=

The third time Peter ran into Deadpool, he was carrying a tiny kitten in his hand in the middle of a sword fight. It hadn’t seemed like a big enough attack--of ninjas, like, actual ninjas like the mythical ones that could walk on water and shit--to require all the Avengers, but the New York City-based players all started showing up. There was also a guy there with devil horns who was yelling about “The Hand.”

Peter asked Steve about him later and he said, “Don’t worry about him. Tasha keeps an eye on him.” 

And that was business that Peter wasn’t about to get into. When Steve said “keeping an eye on,” the Winter Soldier’s eye had twitched and Peter did not want to be in the same zip code as a jealous Bucky Barnes. Steve also told him that Hell’s Kitchen was the devil guy’s territory and Peter was never in that part of Manhattan anyway.

Who knew that hipsters had a  South African wine bar  _ and _ a  portal to a mystical realm inhabited by ninjas .

When all was said and done, Deadpool had lost a big chunk out of his leg, had a gaping hole in his shoulder that Peter could see through, a knife in his forehead, and the kitten still cradled and purring against his chest. 

“Why didn’t you just put the cat down?” Peter couldn’t help but ask. After the whole aborted assassination attempt, Peter thought they were kind of friends, or at least friendly acquaintances.

“In that mess? Did you see what just happened out there or was that someone else weaving around on strings like a marionette.”

“Cats are good at hiding.” 

“But she would have had to get through a million spinning swords to find a hiding spot.” 

“Street cats are smart.”

“Just let me have my moment. I’m like John Wick! But with cats!” 

“His dog was a gift from him dead wife. You just met that cat.”

“How dare you not assume that this cat wasn’t sent to me from beyond the grave by my beloved Bernadette Peters.”

“Bernadette Peters is still alive.” 

“Whatever. I wasn’t going to let the cat get killed. Only monsters kill cats,” Deadpool said. 

“You tried to kill  _ me _ .” 

“I was hired to kill you.” 

“So what if someone hired you to kill a cat?”

“That person would be a monster.” 

“And you wouldn’t do it?” 

“Well,” he tilted his head and then shrugged. “Daddy needs to eat.” 

The cat meowed. 

“You need to eat, too,” Deadpool said to the cat. “Hey, Spider-Man. You’re a member of the animal kingdom. What do cats eat?”

Somehow, and Peter still to this day wasn’t sure how it happened, probably with an argument about what a cat should and should not eat, which Peter didn’t really know anything about, but he knew that Deadpool knew even less. And then suddenly Peter was pushing a shopping cart through PetSmart in his Spider-Man costume, getting stopped for selfies and having god knows what said about him on social media, all with Deadpool chatting beside him about kitty litter. 

Somehow he also split a cab with Deadpool, paid the cab driver, who seemed like he was going to accept a high five in payment. And then he helped Deadpool carry all the cat’s supplies into a basement apartment in the Bronx, which he shared with an elderly blind woman.

“This is Al. Ignore her.”

“He keeps me locked in the basement,” Al said. 

“She’s lying. It was one time and her old coke dealer was after her.”

It was a little weird that Deadpool had an old lady for a roommate, but Peter couldn’t judge. He lived in the same building as Aunt May--at his insistence. The fact that Deadpool didn’t want Peter to think he locked an old woman in the basement was kind of touching. It had Peter feeling some kind of way when he swung back to Queens.

When Peter got home that night, after he peeled off the Spider-Man costume and took a long, confusing shower, he picked up his phone. He ignored all the texts from his PR person. He almost thought about calling Aunt May, but the risk of hearing Happy in the background was too much. 

He called MJ instead.

“What do you want? It’s late.”

“So you know Deadpool?” 

“The guy who went viral the other day for punching the guy who called him a second-rate Spider-Man?”

“Uh.” 

“But not because he was insulted. Because he thought it was insulting to  _ you _ .”

“Um.”

“Because he clearly said, before the guy went down, ‘I’m a fifth rate Spider-Man at best. It’s like winning a contest to meet a Jonas Brother and finding out it’s Kevin.’ I can send you the video. It’s on YouTube.”

“I think I just went out on a date with him,” Peter blurted out. 

“Um.” 

Startling MJ was not a regular occurrence by any means, but Peter was so shaken up by the fact that even if it wasn’t a date, he had a really good time hanging out with Deadpool that he couldn’t even gloat about it. 

“We went to a pet store for cat supplies. And then back to his place where I helped him build a cat tree.” 

“You’re a grown, adult man. You know that, right?” 

MJ recovered from surprise way too quickly.

“But.” 

“I know, I know. Had to save the world, blah blah, robbed of my youth. But seriously how are you so bad at this? Do you like the guy?”

Peter thought about it. Deadpool was brave and could actually be funny. And he really seemed to want to be a good person, which, if he was being honest, was more than he could say about a lot of the supposed superheroes he knew. Plus, he understood the having a secret identity and putting yourself in the path of danger thing, which almost no one understood. If Peter had known that being Spider-Man would limit his dating pool so much, he might have tried harder to work himself into a place of denial where he could pretend that everyone could stick to ceilings. 

“I don’t know. Kind of, I think? I don’t have to--try around him, to pretend to be normal.” 

MJ snorted. 

“Shut up.” 

“I didn’t say anything.”

“You were thinking it.” 

“Whatever. Does he like you?” 

He thought about the way Deadpool leered at him. But he also leered at Thor, Steve, Natasha, and basically any hot and deadly person. But then he didn’t ask Thor to go buy kitty litter with him. And he laughed at Peter’s jokes. 

But might just be being nice because most of the other Avengers tried to stay away from him.

“I don’t know that either,” Peter admitted. 

“Okay, well, find out before you call me this late again.”

=^..^=

The fourth time they saw each other, Peter finally got a peek underneath Deadpool’s mask. 

It wasn’t intentional. 

This time it was a tentacle monster with a giant eye at the center, which should have been easy enough to kill at a distance, but it’s eyelid was bullet (and arrow) proof, so you had to get close enough to the eye and wait for it to open. The problem was its tentacles were covered in razor-sharp hairs that were also a little sticky. 

And getting sliced with them hurt. 

Peter had an earful of Steve and Tony arguing about tactics and collateral damage and Bruce feeding them information about the biology of a giant eye with tentacles. Peter finally just tuned them out and went to actually do something useful by joining Deadpool closer to the action. Deadpool’s approach to “just get in there and stab it” honestly seemed to make the most sense and had less of a shot of hurting anyone else than Tony’s “controlled explosion” plan. 

So, maybe he and Deadpool were bantering a bit, but there were so many tentacle references to make, and Hawkeye was egging them on. 

And maybe, to an outsider, it looked like flirting. 

“It’s like a discount Cthulhu.” 

“Or like Cyclops got lonely at sea and fucked a Kraken.” 

“Is this what Hydra stole its logo from?” 

“Hey, Squidward, too bad that didn't kill me.”

While they were bantering, they were also getting sliced. Peter’s suit was made of a high tech compound of vibranium, but Deadpool didn’t have the luxury of Stark tech and his suit was very vulnerable to sticky sharp razor things.

Deadpool’s suit was getting torn to shreds and as more of his skin was exposed, Peter started to get an idea of why he stayed in costume all the time. 

“It’s like the episode of The Golden Girls where Blanche goes on a crash diet to fit into her wedding dress and she can’t zip it all the way up,” Deadpool whined.

“It’s nothing like that. And The Golden Girls has been off the air for thirty years, how do you even remember that.” 

“How  _ dare _ you. Bea Arthur is timeless.” 

Once the monster was dead, thanks to Peter and Hawkeye being able to apprehend seven of the eight tentacles, Deadpool was able to dodge the last one and stab the thing right in the eye. 

At the end of it, Deadpool himself seemed relatively unharmed, but his uniform was being held together by hope and a prayer, and he looked like he was about three seconds away from yeeting himself off a roof.

Peter wanted to tell him that he didn’t need to feel bad about his appearance, that if anyone made him feel bad about it, that was their problem and not Deadpool’s, that beauty standards mostly existed in patriarchal cultures as a way of controlling women’s bodies and ignoring them was one small act toward dismantling the patriarchy. 

Instead, Peter did what he did best and went for a bad joke. 

“Hey, Dorkpool.” 

“I give that pet name a 2 out of 10.”

“ What do you call two octopuses that look exactly the same?”

“I feel like I should kno--

“Itenticle.”

Even though Deadpool’s face mask was still mostly intact, Peter was pretty sure he saw Deadpool smile.

But unfortunately their conversation was cut short, because technically Peter was an Avenger, and technically he and Hawkeye were the most directly responsible Avengers for killing the eye thingy, so he had to leave and fill out a report. 

Even more unfortunate, that “report” turn into Peter sitting in a conference room at the new S.H.I.E.L.D. headquarters and having other Avengers start filing in like there was a meeting about to happen. 

“So, Spider-Boy,” he head behind him. 

It was Wasp.

“The whole arachnids aren’t insects thing is personal for you, I take it.” 

“What?”

“Man. It’s, um, Spider-Man.” 

“Right. If you’re going to flirt with Deadpool, that’s--he’s not on our side. You know that, right?” 

So the others noticed that Peter had gravitated toward Deadpool during the fight. 

“Are you saying you’ll kick me out of the Avengers if I’m not a complete dick to Deadpool like all the rest of you are?”

Maria Hill’s eyes went wide like saucers. 

“No. I’m saying you need to be careful,” Wasp said. 

“I’m fully aware that Deadpool is a mercenary.” 

“And if you’re playing that card, Janet. I killed at least three Congressmen and probably JFK,” Bucky said.

Every head in the room, except Black Widow’s, turned to him.

Bucky shrugged, and continued picking something out of his teeth with his buck knife.

“And the Prime Minister of Liechtenstein,” he added. “One of the Saudi princes, too. Ah, this fucking blackberry seed.”

“I thought that was Lee Harvey Oswald,” Peter said.

“Surely you’ve read the second shooter theories.”

“Of course.” 

“You were brainwashed,” Sam insisted. “And Oswald--” 

“Was a terrible shot,” Bucky said before triumphantly waving his knife. “Got it. Why don’t you have any normal fruit.” 

“Can we focus?” Steve asked. 

Somehow Steve was more intimidating as head of S.H.I.E.L.D. in a black suit than he was as Captain America. 

To Peter anyway. Bucky just shrugged and grabbed a plum. Well, he stabbed it, plucked it out of the bowl, and then ate it right off the knife.

Peter tried to pay attention during Avengers’ meetings, he did. But they were usually so boring, about saving resources and collateral damage, and those things were important, but Peter was rarely in a situation where he could think about anything more than not dying. 

Wanda stared at Peter through the entire meeting. 

Peter was never quite sure what her powers were. Mutants were never really over-sharey, which Peter understood, and she seemed to want to keep to herself in general, so Peter never went out of his way to talk with her. 

So it was surprising when she stopped him after the meeting. 

“I don’t think you have to be so afraid of Deadpool,” she said.

“Really?” 

“He wants to help. In his heart he is not so bad.”

Peter stared at her for a little too long than was polite, but she didn’t seem bothered.

“Thanks,” he finally said. 

=^..^=

The fifth time was in Queens. On Peter’s turf. 

It seemed like it was a normal robbery for once, but then a few of Doctor Octopus’s more familiar henchmen were there and Peter realized that the “burglars” were actually trying to go through the bank to get to the medical testing lab next door, so Peter called for backup. 

He didn’t get any immediate confirmation from Friday about who was available, but then he heard a George Michael ringtone in the distance, and he wondered if Friday was sentient enough to try to get him alone with Deadpool. 

Except they weren’t really alone. 

Captain America and Tony both confirmed they were on their way. 

And then Venom showed up.

Deadpool didn’t know Peter’s history with Venom. 

After the fight, Venom was subdued into his host body, who introduced himself as Eddie, along with an apology for bringing his fight from San Francisco all the way to Queens.

“You’re not working  _ with _ Doctor Octopus?” 

“I was doing a story about him.” 

It didn’t seem plausible, but maybe this Eddie guy had managed to get Venom to chill the fuck out.

Or maybe not.

Venom seemed drawn to Deadpool. He dragged Eddie over toward where Deadpool was chatting with--okay, at--the apprehended suspects while they waited for S.H.I.E.L.D. authorities to show up. 

“Venom,” Eddie scolded out. “You can’t just claim dibs on people like that.” 

“But he’s so squirrelly. You know how I like squirrelly,” Venom responded.

“We can’t eat people.” 

Deadpool was looking at Eddie curiously. 

“Why do you get an alien and I get the yellow boxes?”

“Huh?”

“People in here can see your alien. Only people out there can see my boxes, so you all think I’m cuckoo bananas.” 

Peter had no idea what Deadpool could possibly be talking about but Venom was clearly fascinated by him, which could lead to absolutely nowhere good. Venom had emerged even further from Eddie, who also looked fascinated by Deadpool--or his healing ability anyway--and was looking back and forth between the Peter and Deadpool like he was trying to put two and two together. When whatever it was clicked, the Symbiote grinned--well, it inasmuch as Venom could grin. 

“Maybe we could all go out,” he finally said, leering first at Peter then at Deadpool.

“Uh,” Peter said, trying to think of a way to backpedal out of the situation. He didn’t know how much control Eddie had over him. Venom could be extremely persuasive. 

“I was part of a throuple once,” Deadpool said. “But it got a little awkward. But that might have been because I was the only non-demon.” 

“No, no, we, um, we have go,” Peter said, ignoring the--did he say demon?

“We do?” Deadpool asked.

“We have that thing, you remember? The thing?” 

“My mind is like a steel trap and I don’t remember a thing. Is it  _ the _ Thing, because if it is, we’re going to need to get a lot of lube before clobberin’ time.”

Venom started laughing. 

“He doesn’t know! You never told him. Oh you are still a coward, Spider-Man.” 

“Okay, we’re going to go so I can get a quote from S.H.I.E.L.D.,” Eddie said. “Sorry about him. Fighting kind of makes him horny. We’re working on it.”

He turned and started walking away, muttering something to Venom as he left. 

“Never told me what?” Deadpool asked. 

“Uh, I was kind of inhabited by the Symbiote for awhile.” 

“Oh cool,” Deadpool replied, instead of being surprised. “I was briefly married to a succubus.” 

“Wait. What?” 

“Turns out living in the underworld is not as fun as it sounds.” 

“That doesn’t actually sound fun at all.” 

Deadpool was staring at him, which was somehow more unnerving than seeing Venom again. 

“What is it?” Peter asked, tentatively.

“Did the alien ever jerk you off?” 

“No. It doesn’t work that way. You were married?”

“Is that a dealbreaker?”

“Deal--breaker? So you--”

“Because I know it looks like baggage but Shiklah mostly stays in the Underworld these days. I should probably tell you about Lady Death, though there’s not much to say other than that the evil ladies want to get all up on this, and that’s something you’d have to contend with.” 

If Peter didn’t know any better, he’d think that Deadpool seemed nervous, flustered even. It was an opening, all he had to do was say “I’d love to hear more about this over a drink,” but instead, the words that came out of his mouth were, 

“Do you ever stop talking?” 

“Not really, no.” 

“It’s cu--”

“Spider-Man!” 

It was Captain Cockblock. With a very amused Iron Man beside him.

“I’m going to need you to tell me everything you know about this Symbiote. And then I’m going to need to know why there wasn’t a single mention of this in your personnel file.” 

“I tried to stop him, kid,” Tony said, though he didn’t look sorry at all.

Peter looked over at Deadpool, who was slinking away, probably because it was better to stay away from an angry Steve Rogers if you weren’t on his good side to begin with. Peter swore he heard him say “Captain Cockblock” as he left, and Peter went beet red, worried he had said it out loud. 

Even if it was true.

=^..^=

The sixth time Peter and Deadpool were together at the same place at the same time, Peter was tired of thinking about it. He liked Deadpool. He was pretty sure at the very least that Deadpool was attracted to him. Peter decided to just go for it. 

Or he would have, if Deadpool didn’t push him up against a wall--one of the few walls still in tact after Kingpin’s henchmen detonated some explosives--and rubbed his nose in the crook of Peter’s neck as he whispered, 

“So, meeting you in the middle of fights with B-list villains has been great and all, but I’d really like to suck your dick.” 

Peter’s brain did that annoying blippy thing where it went offline and his dick took over, and he didn’t say the thing he should have said. 

“Okay.”

“Okay?” 

“I was going to ask you out to dinner, well, ask you out as Wade, but dick sucking is good. Let’s do that.” 

“A date? You know I can’t, I mean, if you’re okay going out with a man who looks like Freddie Kreuger face-fucked a topographical map of Utah.” 

Peter had thought about it. He had thought about it a lot once he had seen the skin under Deadpool’s suit, not so much because he cared about appearances, but because Deadpool clearly wasn’t comfortable being out of his suit. But Peter was fascinated by the man himself and wanted to know him inside the suit, not just as the quippy mercenary who seemed to annoy everyone but him. He wasn’t ready to admit that out loud, though.

“It’s fine.”

“But--” Deadpool started as Peter peeled up the bottom of his mask. 

“It’s really fine. You won’t steal my shampoo. I’ll never get pubes in my teeth.” 

Deadpool laughed, or he would have laughed if Peter wasn’t slotting their lips together. 

For a brief moment, it was sweet, like a first kiss was supposed to be. But Peter was a grown man and Wade was a grown man and Peter grabbed as Wade pushed and then their bodies were flush together and it got a whole lot dirtier fast. 

Then Deadpool pulled away suddenly. 

“What?” 

“We can go out after, right? This isn’t just a ploy to get into my pants?” 

The insecurity in his voice was unmistakable and Peter felt like a jerk. For all the bravado, Deadpool was just like him under it all. And Peter was pretty sure Wanda had been right that in spite of how it looked to someone who just saw the guns and the katanas and the uncomfortable jokes, he was a good person underneath it all.

“We can go out right this second if you want. I have a fast metabolism. Hungry sometimes trumps horny.” 

“I think he likes me. He really likes me,” Deadpool said out loud, but Peter wondered if he was meant to hear it. 

Peter stopped wondering when Deadpool started rubbing his hand against Peter’s crotch.

“How does this suit work?”

Peter groaned. 

“It’s a pain in the ass to take it off.”

“Is there a zipper?” 

“It’s actually magnetic, it only responds to me.” 

“So I can’t rip it off you? 

“Sorry.”

“The moment has passed, hasn’t it? I’m known for my ability to read the room and this is definitely one of those moments.”

“We’re also mostly in public, which isn’t usually my thing.” 

“Now I know that’s not true. I’ve seen all your movies. A lot of outdoor makeouts.” 

“Movies?”

“So, dinner?”

“Well, now I’d kind of like to go home and change. Maybe shower.” 

“Let’s do that. Privacy, nudity, soap, you’re really earning that genius label.” 

They ended up ordering in, but they answered the door together, which meant it definitely counted as a date. 

It turned out Deadpool didn’t even stop talking when he was giving a blow job, but somehow that didn’t diminish his technique.

“Wait,” Peter said, after the second round, when he was sprawled out on his bed sated and a little sex stupid. 

“Hmm?” 

“B-list? Shuma-Gorath is D-list at best.”

**Author's Note:**

> I know it's been awhile. A long while. And truly you are the one who deserves the kudos if you made it this far.


End file.
